Another Chance
by Stratikeo
Summary: When an assassin, accused of trying to execute the king was stoned half to death and thrown to sea and lived, how can he start over with a new life? (Chapter 2: He founds out who killed his friend... his primal instincts take over.)
1. I chose to live

Note: I'm RO illiterate... sue me. I made some stuff up, so yeah... it was hard keeping up with the people in the RO fic-writing community. I'm writing this because... uh... everybody's doing it?

Story Info:

Title: Another Chance

Chapters? to ?

Rating: PG-13, R in some instances.

Rated For: Intense Violence, Language, Immorality

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**Another Chance**

By Stratikeo (stuh-rah-tee-kay-oh)

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****

**Chapter 1: I chose to live...**

"Wake up!" said a loud voice.

"You're not going to die on me, aren't you?" said another.

"Hurry, he's losing blood quick! Where's that god damn acolyte?" said the first.

"He'll die anyway. What's the point?"

"You want us to be stoned too?"

"Well, no..."

_Baldlice the menace. Baldlice the silent slayer. Those were the names the people of Prontera gave me. The city nurtured me. The streets were full of sustenance. I no longer live in that horrible place. Juno can fly to its death for all I care and Prontera may drown in its own serenity._

"Give it, Beorn."

"Give what?"

"Give it! The map!"

"Sorry, friend. Only the supreme executives and the King himself can look at this."

"Trash! What has the kingdom done to you?"

"Stop it, Baldlice! I, Sir Beorn hereby arrest you for your crimes, Baldlice Cuthbert. I order thee to be stoned to death in public."

"Your loyalty is defunct! Retire to your filth, the King! You are a traitor, Beorn! You are a damn traitor!"

_Life had betrayed me on that open space outside Izlude. Beorn had chosen the life of a crusader! An assassin would expect no less after an active life of killing which lasted a solid twenty-five years. Cronies and ego cannot sustain me. My prime has passed, and nothing... even the filthiest of filth can even come close to forgiving me for my sins._

"In the name of God, I restore thee!" shouted the woman in white and red.

"This is amazing. I didn't think self-sustaining was possible. A lesser man would have died at the fifth cast."

_I stared death in the eye. That was one of my proud accomplishments. I spoke right into the mind of the devil. I stand with no fear before the beast. I came an inch away to assassinating King Tristan. I came so close to achieving my goal. His ruling is an abomination. At least... I used to think it was._

"Sir Beorn! You may proceed."

"The court of Juno has decided! Permission has granted. For an attempt at ending my life, scum like you... Baldlice Cuthbert should die and be dropped into the fiery recesses of hell!"

"I'm sorry, Baldlice. It has to be done. You have to pay." said the troubled Crusader to his old friend.

"You disgust me!" Baldlice said as he spit right into Beorn's face.

"Take him away." said Beorn in a soft tone.

"I don't want to see him again. Clean the area up as soon as you're done. Memory of him will be expunged." he said as he left through the metal gate.

"Beorn! You can't do this to me! Answer me, Beorn! BEEEOORRNN!" screamed the desperate criminal.

_The killer instinct was no longer lingering within me. Only fear and pain was left. Fatigue reigned in my body. Confusion reigned in my mind. Sorrow reigned in my heart. My friend's betrayal left me in the dust. I was left to suffer for my crimes while he took his chance and went along the path of light. He started over. I ended in hell... but hell didn't want me._

"Did it work? You're not skilled. Maybe a priest can help him."

"Look at him! He's old and washed up! We can't mess with him! He might hurt us?"

"Hurt us? How? Are you crazy? He's battered and bloodied!"

"What if we took the old man in?"

"No. We can't."

"WHAT?"

_A killer waits inside the black heart of every man. An assassin like me, or a crusader like Beorn. Everybody has the capacity to end the life of another. It has always been that way in my principle. One must live, and one must die. The one who lives must live a cursed life and must carry the title of a criminal. I chose to live. I chose to kill. I chose to end in the fire. But... there was one who did not believe. There was one who refused that life. There was one with a heart brighter than the sun._

As Baldlice winced in pain from the lightning-like blow from the executioner's whip, the crowd continued to hiss at him and cheer for Beorn who was comfortably sitting on a suspended recliner overlooking the open torture area which sadly, Baldlice was in.

"Rot in hell, foul being!" said the first heartless volunteer as he violently heaved the first stone.

"Living devil! Assassin of the dark one!" said the second as he as well, threw a sharp stone at Baldlice.

His blood was flowing out of the countless open wounds on his back and front like a demonic fountain. His face shone red like a beet and a crimson mask covered up his face... and he looked a hundred years older. The pain was excruciating. Every second felt like an eternity for the suffering man.

"Stop... I beg of you..." he said as he grabbed hold of the executioner's tunic.

"Bitch! Now you're begging! You're pathetic! Die already!" he said as he kicked Baldlice out of the way.

"STONE HIM! MAKE HIM BLEED! MAKE HIM SUFFER!" the enraged crowd cheered repeatedly and this cheer was ringing in Baldlice's mind like a loud shriek.

Suddenly, just when Baldlice couldn't take it any longer... a voice spoke and the crowd became silent.

"Stop this torture! This man deserves to live!" said the merciful crusader up in the air.

"Beorn... you..." said Baldlice even though every inch of his body had been lacerated and he was lying in a vast pool of his own blood.

"In the name of God, stop! You barbarians should know better!" exclaimed the worried friend.

"Don't... they'll..." said the bruised and bloodied Baldlice, barely heard.

"What are you talking about, Sir Beorn? This man committed a crime and must be punished!" said the executioner, confused.

"I'd rather be the one in his place."

"No! We cannot do that! The King has more authority over you!" the tall man with the mask said with fear to the crusader in front of him.

"Let him live!"

"KILL THE CRIMINAL! THE CRIMINAL! THE CRIMINAL!" shouted the public, witnessing the massacre.

"Have you no mercy? If only crusaders, acolytes, and priests can relate to being merciful in the name of God, then I don't know what..."

What follows shocked everyone. Nobody moved and nobody spoke. A knight who was secretly waiting behind Beorn charged and drove his Halberd, a heavy weapon, right into the sternum of the crusader, impaling the thick armor as if it were paper. Beorn's eyes became pale and blood seeped from his mouth and chest. The knight lifted his weapon and threw the heavily-armored yet lifeless corpse of Beorn aside like a doll while it left a trail of red liquid behind.

"BEOOOORRNNN!" said the weak Baldlice.

"Silence, you impudent bastard!" said the executioner to his victim.

"Why... why did you kill him?" screamed Baldlice like a man full of rage and energy.

"We suspected him to be a traitor from the very start. The King and leader of the Knighthood are wise indeed, Baldlice Cuthbert. We knew he was your friend all along. When the time was right, we would kill him. That's what happened."

"Son of a BITCH!" cursed Baldlice.

"SILENCE!" screamed the executioner.

The tall executioner took his mallet and slammed it into the skull of Baldlice. He was immediately knocked unconscious and it made an ugly sound when his head hit the hard concrete. The crowd groaned for a moment and then cheered a second after.

"Take him away. Our weapons won't break him... but the sea can."

_I didn't remember anything after that. Beorn was both loyal to God and me. It sickened me to watch him die that way. He felt pain but for only a short time... but his life had ended. I had to suffer terrible pain for long hours and yet I live. What is my true purpose? What am I to do with the rest of my years?_

"The sea had washed away the dirty blood and closed most of his wounds. It's a good thing the rocks didn't tear him to bits of flesh and protein. He's a lucky man to survive a beating like that."

"He seems to be alright now."

"What should we do with him?"

"Well, Father Terence can take care of him. He seems strong enough."

"How do you know?"

"His joints... the way they bend like that. Only a thief... or an assassin would have a body shaped like this."

"He's an ASSASSIN? Get him away from me! AWAY!"

"Damn it, he's injured! Come, let's go to Father Terence's residence. He will do the rest."

"Agreed."

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CHAPTER 2 COMING SOON

PLEASE REVIEW


	2. Fyren the Wicked

Note: Pinoy Ragna Fic Writers are da most astig, man. w00tle

Note: Oh and, I know Baldlice's abilities are a little... "insane" but he's an assassin right? XP

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**Another Chance**

By Stratikeo (stuh-rah-tee-kay-oh)

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**Chapter 2: Fyren the Wicked**

_The memory of my execution, and Beorn's death troubles me more than I can bear. I wanted to die. There was nothing I could live for anymore. That was how I wanted myself to be until this holy man came into my life._

"I don't recall anything. If you would please just let me-"

"Nonsense! Stay here. It's a harsh world out there" the wise priest said as he handed Baldlice a cup of warm tea.

"I cannot accept your hospitality, Father Elazar."

"Honestly! Call me Terence! Baldlice Cuthbert... is that right?"

"Please, I need to get..."

"Revenge? I can see it in your eyes. I can see all the battles you've fought."

"...you mean all the men I've killed?" inquired Baldlice.

"Well, that too." said Terence.

"Look! I don't need your help!" Baldlice shouted as he spilled the tea on the table.

"You're just stressed out." he said calmly.

"I'm twenty-five! I don't need your-"

"You don't need my what? You don't even know what you need in life! Where do you suppose you'll go?"

"Nowhere, I guess..."

"You're lucky I took you in. Any other priest would have left you to those kids who saved you. You know, you should be thankful. I don't normally take care of deranged criminals like you."

"I can easily kill you with my bare hands."

"News of my death will mean that it's back to the death penalty for you, young ward."

"Young ward? I'm not your slave! I'm an assassin! I kill, you praise. Enough is said, I am leaving this musky place."

With a wave of Terence's hand and a chant, the doors and windows of his little hut closed shut. Baldlice tried escaping but to no avail.

"There's a tin bucket there. Fill it up to the brim with water from the port and clean the house."

"I'm not a slave! You're a priest! You should know better!"

"I _do _know better. Clean my house, and by the end of the day I might consider letting you go."

"Damn it... hooked me up to proper vitals. You're a sinister man, Elazar... a sinister man."

"You'll beg to differ someday, young man. Someday..."

_What must I do to gain comfort? Did I only have to clean this old man's house? What else must I do? Should I be his slave for eternity? He was a wise and powerful priest. He could crush me with one wave of his staff!_

"Your house is surprisingly clean, Father."

"Then your job was easy, yes?"

"I think..."

"Come over here! Sit down, sit down."

Beorn took the bucket and drained the dirty water out of it. He grabbed a wooden chair from the wall beside the kitchen window and sat down across the table from Terence.

"Tell me, Baldlice. Did your old life satisfy you?"

"That depends if you actually knew my old life."

"Oh, I know. News of the lives you took is all over the kingdom! From Izlude to Lutie... from Prontera to Juno. Everybody knows it all!"

"It's surprising how fast news travels these days. But I already know that."

"What's more is that the people know that you are dead."

"I'm dead? What about those... novices... who took me from the port?"

"They don't know you. They wouldn't care less for a man like you... just like you wouldn't care less for them."

"But I don't care for you either, old man. So let me go my way. I still have some friends left."

"I'll be surprised if you even get to the boat unscathed."

"Surprises come every day. Even a holy man like you should know."

"It's fine with me. You may leave. God be with you."

"He was never with me, and he never will be."

_I took my blade with me and set out. It's a good thing I kept my money bag within a safe place in my clothes. I think I still have about five thousand zeny in it. That should last me for a long time. Unlike thieves, my blade needs no brandishing. I am skilled with any kind of arsenal. My scarf was still in good condition. I guess those kids found my other things as well. I wrapped the long cloth around my face, so I won't be recognized. Some babe's blood was smeared under my eyes for more protection._

"Alberta... the port town. It looks a lot livelier than the last time when I invaded it."

"Coming through! Coming through! Out of the way!" said a distant voice which seemed to come closer to where Baldlice was.

"Victory is ours! The man who single-handedly defeated the enemy in the guild siege is with us here in Alberta! Honor the great knight, Fyren Heretoga!"

"FYREN! FYREN! FYREN! FYREN!" the crowd cheered for the tall man in shining armor at the amphitheater.

_The name was unfamiliar. If I was correct, that name was from Izlude. That means he was a swordsman and he is a good wielder of sabers and scabbards. Now he is a knight._

_He took off his helm I stared upon his scarred face. He wore a wicked smile. Wait! This face was familiar. That suit of armor! I think I'm starting to remember who he really is!_

"We suspected him to be a traitor from the very start. The King and leader of the Knighthood are wise indeed, Baldlice Cuthbert. We knew he was your friend all along. When the time was right, we would kill him. That's what happened."

_Yes! Fyren Heretoga was that wicked son of a bitch who killed Beorn! This was my chance. I could swoop in and cut his throat. I will spill his tainted blood all over this peaceful town so that the people will know the true colors of the Knighthood!_

Within a second, Baldlice leapt into one of the pylons stealthily even though it's broad daylight. Even with dark clothing, he was unseen by the multitude of bystanders.

He unleashed his blade and stationed it right beside his thigh and he was ready to swoop down and strike. The pylon he was standing on was holding the tent that was giving shade to the amphitheater.

"Three... two... one..." whispered the assassin.

First, he kicked off the pylon and it went crashing down onto an innocent bystander, killing him instantly. He then leapt towards the other pylons and kicked off them with all his might. Within seconds, the crowd was in panic and the large cloth they considered a tent incapacitated Fyren for a while because of its weight.

He rebounded off one of the nearby buildings' walls and went for the kill. With one hand behind his back and the other holding the blade which pointed downwards, he swiftly fell like a needle towards the lump which he suspected to be Heretoga.

"Rest in Peace, Fyren... you'll be joining your victim, Beorn in hell."

!CLANK!

His blade shattered and he was knocked back. When the tent cloth tore open, Fyren wasn't there. In his place was his suit of armor. The crowd gave a surprised stare to the one who attempted the assassination. Baldlice was in awe.

"Where's Fyren?" screamed the crier.

"This isn't happening..." briefly whispered.

Baldlice threw the gigantic cloth up in the air as a distraction and he disappeared into thin air.

"...another one of his tricks?" said Fyren's apprentice.

"Yes. That's what he's famous for. They called him the Black Knight not only for the color of his suit." said the other.

"That's astounding, you know that? So where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Then how will we find him?"

"No... how will he find _us_?"

_With all the strength I could muster, I made the tent collapse. How difficult was it to take that final cut at life? It was like hell! Fyren was a sly person. Someone as big as that barbarian escaped from the vigilant hawk-like eyes of an assassin like me._

Baldlice hopped from building to building. He tried holding himself back from the anger and tried focusing on the assassin instinct. Everything that he learned did not help him at his attempt. Where did he go wrong?

_I landed on one of the empty ports. I hid in one of the boats for a while to rest my tired joints. I am agile, but I tire easily when under the sun... in Alberta or anywhere else, it does not make a damn difference._

After resting for a while, Baldlice started to get drowsy. His eyelids were heavy and his joints were numb. His breathing was slowing down and he fell sideways. He fell asleep in the boat.

_When I awoke, my eyes were half-shut. I was still dizzy and I felt sick. Wait... the boat! Judging from the sounds coming from the outside, it was already past dinner time._

"Wake up..." said a voice.

"Wake up..."

"Wake up..."

"Wake up..."

"Wake up..."

"Wake up..."

"Wake up... silent slayer..."

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CHAPTER 3: COMING SOON

PLEASE R&R


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